


it's only tradition

by damipussycomplex



Series: bdww 2020 [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: BDWW 2020, Bets & Wagers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Dick Grayson, Rating May Change, Teasing, Trans Damian Wayne, Trans Male Character, as is dick but this is the norm when it comes to damian, jason is... very touchy, tim touches his shoulders ONCE and damian doesn't know how to feel poor bb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27330094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damipussycomplex/pseuds/damipussycomplex
Summary: Damian loses a bet to Tim and as such, he's made to wear the original Robin uniform during patrol for a month, which has someinterestingconsequences.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne, Jason Todd/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake/Damian Wayne
Series: bdww 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960648
Comments: 65
Kudos: 261
Collections: BottomDamianWayneWeek2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> written for day 3 of bdww: original Robin uniform. this might look familiar bc i wrote a twitter thread about it a while ago, just warning you. also, this is a chaptered fic and i can predict that updates will not be regular, so if you want to keep up to date with it, i suggest you either subscribe to it, or just hope that i can start a somewhat regular updating schedule. hope you enjoy!

Damian stands there, fuming with his arms crossed over his chest as he glares at Drake, who grins sharply at him as he peels his mask off to reveal cool blue eyes which scan over Damian’s body, lingering on his thighs and then slowly dragging back up to his face, almost _reluctantly_. He can feel his face heating up as everyone else arrives, curious as to why he and Drake are having what looks like a relatively peaceful standoff in the middle of the Cave.

“What’s going on?” Grayson asks, cheerful as ever as he looks between the two of them and walks over to Damian, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezing. Damian shakes it off and tries to ignore the way Grayson’s face falls slightly before he smiles again as Damian stalks over to Drake to stand right in front of him, hands curled into fists.

“Damian lost a bet, so now he has to do a favour for me, which is, as of yet, unspecified,” Drake says, rubbing his hands together like he’s a villain from the pathetic shows on the television that Grayson always tries to make him watch, and Damian wants to punch him for it.

“Yikes,” he hears Todd say behind him, and turns to see him pulling off his helmet and setting it down before pushing his sweaty hair back off his forehead, and he looks _delighted_ by the concept of Damian being left to Drake’s undoubtedly nefarious schemes. “Good luck to you, brat. You’ll need it. I remember the last time _I_ lost a bet to Tim and it was _not_ fun.” He shudders for dramatic effect, and Damian scowls at him too, wondering if his dumb helmet would leave a dent in his skull if it was thrown at his head.

But he calms himself down and turns back to Drake, only to find that he’s no longer there. Damian turns on the spot and finds him in front of the display cases, gloved fingers pressed to the glass of one of the first few cases. Damian glances up at the uniform of two of his predecessors, wondering why on earth his father let them run around in something which practically constitutes as _underwear_.

Drake sees Damian’s reflection and turns to look at him again over his shoulder, giving Damian a quick once-over. “This is what I want you to do for me,” he says, drumming his fingertips on the glass, and Damian narrows his eyes, slightly confused when he doesn’t say anything more than that and just stares at him.

“Aren’t you going to bother to elaborate?” Damian snaps, and Drake, absolute bastard that he is, just smirks at him.

“You have to wear this uniform during patrol.” Damian stares at him, wondering if Drake has actually managed to drive himself _insane_ from a severe lack of sleep. “For a month,” Drake adds on, eyes glinting at him as his smirk widens.

Damian bristles, shoulders stiffening when he hears Todd chortling behind him and what sounds like Grayson _possibly_ choking on his own breath. “How is _that_ doing you a _favour?_ ” Damian spits at him, his every word laced with venom, and Drake just shrugs, seemingly unaffected.

“I get to see the humiliated look on your face every time you put it on, and then watching you get all embarrassed when someone else sees you in it, well, that’s just a bonus,” Drake says with a sharp smile on his face. Damian almost lunges at him but strong arms wrap around his torso and pin his arms down by his sides, holding him back, and Damian knows from the hand rubbing calmly over one of his biceps that it’s Grayson.

Todd would _never_ have tried to stop him – Damian and Drake getting into an argument, physical or not, is usually a form of entertainment for him. Drake hasn’t moved, didn’t even flinch back when Damian moved forward, as if he knew that he’d end up getting his way.

“Calm down, Dami,” Grayson soothes, resting his chin on top of Damian’s head and swaying him slightly from side to side, like he thinks he’ll somehow be able to rock the anger out of him. It doesn’t work at all, but Damian would rather stay in Grayson’s embrace than waste energy on attacking Drake.

“Tim,” Grayson says, addressing Drake now, and Damian doesn’t bother holding back his own smirk at the stern, reprimanding tone in his voice. “Are you really being serious? Making him wear the old uniform?”

Drake crosses his arms and cocks an eyebrow, glancing down at Damian. “A bet’s a bet, Dick,” he says, shrugging. “He took it and he lost it, so this is what he has to do. No backing out,” he adds on, looking at Damian, who feels his ears burning with both embarrassment and anger as he tries to squirm his way out of Grayson’s arms, but the man is like an octopus, holding on even tighter.

“Yep,” Todd agrees, walking over to join them and grinning down at Damian. “Kid gambled and now he’s got to deal with the consequences of that.” Damian thinks about breaking his teeth.

“But – but what if he gets hurt?” Grayson asks, and Damian tries to turn around in his arms to glare at him for even insinuating that Damian would allow himself to be injured.

“I’m not a _child,_ I know how to defend myself,” he starts hotly, wriggling in Grayson’s arms, but he’s cut off by the man himself.

“There’s nothing on the legs to offer any sort of protection and the tunic is thinly armoured and Damian wouldn’t be able to fit any of his usual weapons into it,” Grayson rambles, and Damian is grateful that at least _someone_ is on his side today, despite the fact that all of the reasons being listed imply that Damian is not capable of adapting to a situation and fending for himself.

Drake sighs, unamused by Grayson’s attempts to save Damian from his fate. “Dick, _you_ wore it and you were just fine. And so did Jason and he was – well, he _died_ in it but so did Damian and that was in his _own_ uniform,” Drake says, and Todd snorts, lightly punching his arm.

Grayson opens his mouth again to protest and Drake holds up a hand, telling him to stop. “If you’re so worried about it, we can always stick a little closer to Damian than we usually do during patrol and make sure he doesn’t accidentally end up grazing his knee or something,” he teases, smirking again.

“Oh my god, Tim. I can’t believe you – B?” Grayson tries weakly, and all four of them turn to look at Damian’s father, sat in front of the computers and typing up a report, facing away from them as the sound of keys clacking echoes through the Cave. He hasn’t had any input into the conversation yet, and he doesn’t look like he’s been paying any attention either, but Damian knows for a fact that he’s listened to every word they’ve said.

Father sighs and turns in his chair with a weary look on his face, like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. He looks between them, taking in Drake’s and Todd’s grins and Grayson’s pleading face and Damian’s embarrassed scowl before sighing again, even louder this time. “As long as it doesn’t affect you in the field, I see no problem with it,” he says, returning to typing, and Damian has been _betrayed_ by his own _father_.

“ _Bruce_ ,” Grayson chokes out, clearly hoping as much as Damian that Father would’ve put an end to this mess and told Drake and Todd to stop acting like _fools_ , but they were both wrong to believe in him. Damian ignores Todd and Drake snickering behind him like immature little children and tugs on Grayson’s arm to get his attention, breathing in deeply through his nose when Grayson looks down at him with a face that is a little paler than usual.

“Grayson, I appreciate your concern but it is fine,” he grits out, refusing to look Grayson in the eye. “I will… I will wear the uniform. It is only – _fair_.” Damian can feel his cheeks burning with heat as he clears his throat and manages to finally get away from Grayson, backing away a few steps too many and bumping into Todd, jerking away from him with a flush and nearly stumbling over his own feet, steadied by Todd’s hand on his shoulder.

He smacks it off and turns to walk to the showers, hoping nobody decides to shower at the same time as him, but then he hears his name being called out. Damian turns slowly and sees Todd stood next to Drake, leaning enough of his weight on him that Drake looks like he could fall over any second now. There’s a razor-sharp grin on Todd’s face, one that only widens as Damian grinds his teeth together and clenches his jaw.

“Try it on,” Todd says, voice light and playful, and that’s something only ever heard from him when he’s feeling particularly deranged or is about to go on an _extremely_ creative killing spree. So Damian has good reason to be concerned, especially when Drake starts to smile too, clearly having understood what Todd is saying before Damian.

“Try _what_ on?” Damian bites out, and Drake’s mouth twitches with visible amusement.

“The uniform,” Todd says completely casually. “Try it on for us.”

“ _What.”_

“Come on, Damian,” Drake says, deciding to join in and start harassing Damian too. “We can check if it needs any adjustments or anything and then Alfred can have it sorted for you for tomorrow night’s patrol.” Damian hesitates and Drake notices, eyes flashing to him. “It’s all clean as well, don’t worry, Alfred cleans this up as well.”

“Damian, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Grayson butts in. Drake frowns at him and so does Damian.

“I don’t need to be babied, Grayson,” he hisses as he marches over to the case Drake is stood in front of and nudges him to the side, pulling it open. Damian is about to start carefully pulling it all down when he feels a heavy hand on his shoulder and hot breath washing over the shell of his ear, making him shiver.

“Let me,” Todd murmurs, his hand sliding down Damian’s back, and Damian can somehow feel the heat coming off it even through the reinforced armour of his own uniform. And then he’s gently moved out of the way before Todd takes out all of the items of clothing, the tunic and the cape, the pixie boots and the domino mask and the – the green _underwear_ , for a lack of better words. Maybe the tiny scrap of fabric could be considered some _very_ short shorts.

Damian is handed everything except the shorts, which are left dangling in the air from Todd’s fingers, held mere inches out of his reach. Damian refuses to try and jump for them like a child, so he goes up on the very tips of his toes instead and tries to drag Todd’s arm down lower, reaching for them, but Todd just holds them up even higher.

“Say please,” Todd says, a smug grin on his stupid face when Damian keeps trying and failing to get the shorts from him, one hand pushing down on Damian’s head to keep him away from them.

“Give them to me,” Damian snarls, making sure he doesn’t drop anything else that he’s already holding as he deliberately steps on Todd’s toes, but he doubts the idiot can actually feel it through his boots.

“ _Jason,”_ Damian hears Grayson growl, and Todd sighs, lowering his arm enough for Damian to snatch the shorts away with a flush on his cheeks as he strides away from them and starts to make his way towards the small section of the Cave which is classified as the changing room.

“You’re such a spoilsport,” Todd complains, huffing at Grayson as Damian walks past him, who just glares right back at him. “Always have to ruin my fun.”

Damian rounds a corner and Grayson’s response is quiet, a little muffled because of how far away it is, and Damian doesn’t hear it well enough to make out exactly what Grayson said. He makes sure to angle himself so that he’s not caught by any cameras and starts to undress himself with shaking hands. Damian’s utility belt is undone and his cape is unlatched, fluttering to the ground. Then come his unlaced boots, followed by his gloves and tunic, then finally his leggings.

Damian swallows thickly, stood there in nothing but his underwear as he stares at the pile of clothing on the bench. Eventually he summons the courage to tug it down over his hips and picks up the tunic, wrangling it over his head and smoothing out any visible wrinkles before fastening the cape around his collar too, displeased by how short it is – it _barely_ reaches down to the middle of his back.

Then he reaches for the shorts with a trembling hand, holding them out in front of him for a moment before putting his feet through the leg holes, dragging the material up his thighs and making a face at how _tight_ they are on him, wondering if Grayson and Todd ever had the same problem.

Damian finds himself plucking at the fabric of the shorts, holding it away from his skin so that it doesn’t pinch him or dig into his flesh, but he has to let go of it to step into the pixie boots, fetching some adhesive from his utility belt to plaster the domino mask to his face again, becoming Robin once more.

He fidgets with the cape, twisting the fabric between his fingers before finally deciding to walk back out to the rest of them. Father is no longer there, probably in the shower himself or upstairs in the manor. Drake is the first one to notice him, and his eyes flicker up and down Damian’s body as he clears his throat to get everyone else’s attention. And then there are suddenly three pairs of intense eyes on Damian and he can feel himself reddening, but puts his hands on his hips and stands tall as their eyes roam over him.

“Well?” Damian snaps, bothered by how long they’ve just been staring at him. Drake smirks at him again, and Damian wants to wipe it right off of his face. Todd clears his throat and licks his lips, moving a little closer to inspect Damian.

“I’d say you fill that out better than Dickie here ever did,” Todd says, taking his eyes off Damian for one moment to glance over at Grayson. Drake murmurs something in what sounds like agreement, but Damian isn’t focusing on him enough to be sure. His attention is solely on Grayson, who hasn’t said a word since he saw Damian, and it’s making him feel a little uneasy.

“Grayson, are you alright?” Damian asks, and he knows that his voice is softer than it should be, but Grayson honestly looks like he’s about to be sick, face pinched and pale. Damian looks down at himself with a frown, suddenly feeling cold and strangely empty as he wonders if the sight of him in this uniform is truly so _disgusting_ to Grayson.

The look on Grayson’s face changes to a grimace. “Grayson, do you need to go to the toilet?” Damian asks, growing concerned. “You look like you’re constipated.”

Todd is snickering again, nudging Drake with his shoulder, and both of them look like they’re barely managing to hold back their laughter. “I don’t, uh, I don’t think Dick’s _bowels_ are the body part he has a problem with,” Drake manages to get out, eyes actually watering with how much he’s holding back, and Todd claps a hand over his mouth, wheezing. Damian just stares at them, not understanding what exactly that is supposed to mean or why it is _apparently_ so hilarious.

Grayson’s eyes move away from Damian as he glares at both of them, muttering something about them being immature, and Damian silently agrees with him. “Show us the back,” Todd speaks up, tilting his head to the side as he looks back at Damian, glee sparking in his eyes.

“ _Excuse me?”_ Damian nearly growls, eyes narrowing, and Todd just grins at him.

“Do a little spin for us,” Drake jumps in, and Damian turns the force of his glare on him, but to his credit, Drake doesn’t even blink.

“This isn’t a _fashion show_ ,” Damian splutters, crossing his arms and shivering at the sudden cool air that brushes over his bare thighs. But it’s evident that neither of them are going to give up until Damian does as he’s asked, so he tugs the bottom of the cape down as far as he can without strangling himself to try and cover himself up a little more, grumbling to himself as he turns around about how he will never even _consider_ spinning for them.

And then his hand is suddenly being taken into a much bigger one, and Damian finds himself blushing and scowling at the same time as Todd forces him into a quick _twirl_ , cape flowing out after him as he moves. “There we go,” Todd says, ruffling his hair. “Wasn’t that hard, was it?” Damian nearly hisses at him like a cat, swatting his hand away and stomping away to the changing room to collect his own uniform.

It’s when he’s about to go right past them again to get to the showers that Damian hears his name being mentioned in conversation. “What are you saying about me?” He demands, stopping a few metres away from them. Their voices cut off and none of them say anything for a moment until Grayson steps forward and places a hand on his shoulder.

He’s about to say something when Todd interrupts him with, “Just how excited we are to see you tomorrow in your new uniform.” Damian scowls at him and opens his mouth to argue, but Grayson’s hand squeezing his shoulder stops him.

“It’s nothing, Dames, really. Go shower,” he says, and Damian knows for a fact that he’s lying, but Grayson suddenly sounds so tired that Damian decides not to push him, giving all of them one last suspicious look before making his way to the showers, leaving all of his clothes on a bench before climbing into the shower.

Damian is so distracted by Grayson’s reactions to him and having to wear that _ridiculous_ outfit in front of all of them that he ends up accidentally getting some soap in his eye, rubbing at it and cursing as it starts to sting. If all of this teasing and the odd behaviour from Grayson are any indicator of what the next month will be like, Damian is most definitely _not_ looking forward to it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, posting the second chapter two months later and then proceeding to hide under a rock again for the next two months lmao /hj. in all seriousness, i hope the read ends up being worth the wait :) also, a lot of tim and jason in this and not a lot of dick (either of them), but he will be making more of an appearance in the next chapter hopefully!

From practically the minute he leaves his bedroom after waking up so he can go to eat breakfast, up until the time for patrol arrives, Damian isn’t left alone, or to be more precise, he is continuously harassed by his so-called brothers.

He steps out of his bedroom, still a little bleary-eyed even after washing his face, and Grayson suddenly appears at his side, even though his bedroom is at the other end of the hallway. It’s almost as though he had been lying in wait for Damian, like a predator stalking its prey and waiting for the right moment to pounce.

“Damian, you realise you don’t need to do this, right?” is the first thing out of Grayson’s mouth as he suddenly takes hold of Damian’s hands in his own, and it takes Damian an embarrassingly long time to figure out what it is he’s talking about, flushing and resisting the urge to shove Grayson away once realisation dawns upon him.

“Aren’t you going to even greet me before attacking me in the hallway?” Damian says, calmly snatching his hands back and making his way past all of the other bedrooms, Grayson right beside him. He bites back a surprised yelp when strong arms circle around his waist, squeezing tight around him as he’s lifted and held against Grayson’s chest and a kiss is pressed into his sleep-mussed hair as his feet dangle mere inches off the ground.

“Good morning, Dames,” Grayson murmurs, and then Damian is set back down on the floor and released. He turns to scowl at Grayson over his shoulder as he smooths out the wrinkles from his shirt, ears burning. “You don’t have to put the old uniform on if you don’t want to, okay?” Grayson continues from where he left off, grabbing Damian’s shoulders to keep him in place as he looks at him with wide, serious eyes.

Damian stares at him for a while before scoffing and shrugging his hands off. “You should know by now that I don’t do anything unwillingly, Grayson,” he says, rolling his eyes when Grayson just frowns at him. “Stop fussing over me like a mother hen.”

Grayson just sighs and follows Damian to the main kitchen, where Pennyworth is placing a final stack of pancakes drowning in syrup on the island as Damian steps up to it and takes his seat. “Father,” Damian says, nodding at him from across the island, and he doesn’t miss the fact that as his father offers him a small smile and Damian takes a sip of his jasmine tea, he’s being stared at.

“Is there a problem with your eyeballs?” Damian snaps, glaring at Todd, who just grins at him, and then at Drake, whose dark circles look like they’ve been painted onto his face.

“Not at all,” Drake answers him, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he tilts his head slightly to study Damian with a smirk. “Why do you ask?”

Damian scoffs, ignoring him as he turns back to his tea and then starts to cut his pancakes up into small pieces. “What are _you_ still doing here?” Damian asks, looking at Todd as he lifts the fork up to put some food in his mouth.

Todd looks up from where he was devouring his own food and finishes chewing the half-eaten pancake in his mouth, washing it down with a quick swig of his orange juice and then wiping his mouth. “Are you saying I’m not _welcome_ here?” Todd asks, placing a hand on top of his heart as he rears back and stares at Damian with mock hurt on his face, dramatic as ever. “I’m wounded, Damian. That really _hurt_.”

Damian huffs and flicks a piece of pancake at his face, but Todd just moves to catch it in his mouth and smirks at him as he licks the syrup off his lips. Damian doesn’t know why that makes him redden, but he looks away from Todd with a scowl and concentrates on his own food, even though he can see the idiot’s smirk widening into a grin out of the corner of his eye.

“Boys,” Father says, sounding tired of them already. “It’s breakfast time. Save the fighting for later, please.”

“We weren’t fighting,” Todd says, surprisingly chipper. “Just making a little bit of friendly conversation, right?” He continues, looking at Damian with a strange glint to his eyes. Damian narrows his eyes at Todd over the rim of his cup and wisely chooses not to respond, silently lashing out with his foot instead and hiding his smirk behind his hand when it connects with what is hopefully someone’s leg.

Todd snorts when Drake jerks in his seat, wincing as he reaches down to rub at his shin. Damian _had_ been aiming for Todd, but he supposes Drake will have to do – _he_ had been quite insufferable yesterday as well. “Damian,” Grayson starts to scold, voice stern as Damian turns to him with a scowl, but Drake interrupts what Damian is sure would’ve been a completely unnecessary lecture on refraining from intentionally injuring one’s siblings.

“It’s fine, Dick,” Drake says, smiling at Damian, and it unnerves him. There’s an evil twinkle in his eye, and it almost reminds Damian of his grandfather. “I’ll get him back for it, don’t you worry. On patrol, maybe.” Todd perks up in his seat at the mention of patrol, giving Drake an odd, almost conspiratorial look, but Damian ignores it to look at a frowning Grayson instead.

Grayson sighs and shakes his head as he pours even _more_ syrup onto his pancakes, but Damian isn’t going to bother stopping him. He’s already tried and unfortunately failed to teach Grayson about the dangers of multiple cavities or even diabetes, but Grayson always seems to turn the tables on him by reminding Damian of his _own_ sweet tooth.

Damian finishes his breakfast and clears his dishes from the island, standing up to take them to the sink to be washed, but on his way there, Todd grabs his wrist, not too roughly, but hard enough that Damian has to actively make sure the dishes don’t crash onto the floor. Once he’s sure they won’t fall, Damian turns to Todd with a glare which falters when he sees the way Todd is watching him – he looks a little dangerous and Damian has to fight back a shiver when Todd’s fingers flex around his hand like he’s testing his grip.

They stare at each other for a moment before Todd’s mouth curls into a little smirk as he stands up too, practically looming over Damian as he places his own plate on top of the stack of Damian’s dishes, then moves far enough away that Damian feels like he can actually breathe again, chest tight.

“Thanks, brat,” Todd says, and he has the audacity to ruffle Damian’s hair as he walks past, but Damian doesn’t do anything about it, doesn’t even snap at him, just stands there like a statue, frozen in place until Drake nudges him out of the way so that he can leave too. Damian resists the urge to rush out of the kitchen and to his room, walking as calmly as he can to the sink and then leaving, ignoring the worried look Grayson gives him as he goes.

And that’s only the beginning. For the rest of the day, he isn’t left alone _at all_. At least one of them is with him all the time, and it’s not as though they let him go about his day in peace, but they choose to actively _pester_ him, trying to engage him in conversation or being overly touchy and friendly with him, and Damian doesn’t know what to _do_. He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

All he _can_ do is go along with it, go along with Todd’s predatory leers and attempts at cornering him in the library, with Drake’s lingering looks and calculated touches, with Grayson’s surprising _lack_ of touch and speech, but continued insistence on remaining in Damian’s presence, right up until the start of the night’s patrol.

At this point, Damian is actually sick of the sight of them, rushing to his own corner as quickly as he can so that he doesn’t have to deal with any more trouble as he gets ready and starts to pull on what will be his new uniform for the next torturous month.

Damian briefly considers putting on his own uniform instead and walking out to see what they’ll do, but finally decides that trying to reclaim his dignity isn’t worth the trouble of having to deal with whatever Drake would make him do for trying to avoid his punishment for losing their bet, nor would it be worth hearing Todd snigger at him for the unforeseeable future.

Eventually, he steps out from the changing room, tugging the cape a little further down and struggling to keep a straight face as the material of the shorts keeps pinching at his skin, clinging to it for dear life, and just like the night before, Drake is the first to see him. His eyes, however, fall straight to Damian’s lower half, to his feet, and Damian looks down too, wondering what he’s staring at so intently.

“I didn’t notice this yesterday, probably because of the lighting, but your ankles are surprisingly skinny. Almost dainty,” Drake murmurs absentmindedly, and Damian stares at him, unsure of how to react. He’s not even entirely sure if he should be offended by Drake’s remark or not.

“ _Dainty?_ ” Todd splutters, snickering as he looks between the two of them. “I know he’s small and looks a little fragile, but Damian’s no fucking _ballerina_ , Timmy.” Damian’s stare turns into a glare as he turns his attention to Todd, who is far too familiar with using Damian’s lack of height as an insult for his liking.

Drake sighs, dragging his eyes away from Damian’s lower half and to Todd. “I _know_ that, but he just seems smaller without all of his usual armour and cape hiding him away. _Delicate_ , even,” Drake dares to say with a smirk, and Damian very calmly does not lunge at him.

“Like a little doll,” Todd snorts, mouth twisting into a gleeful grin as he looks Damian up and down, making him grit his teeth as he walks past them and up to Pennyworth to retrieve his comm, receiving a gentle pat on the shoulder before they all leave and a reminder that _the lads are all just teasing, Master Damian._

Damian does not _like_ being teased. He _hates_ it, in fact. Which is why tonight as well as every other day for the rest of this month are going to be a complete and utter _disaster_.

He scowls and follows everyone else out of the Cave, not looking forward to the patrol ahead like he usually does. It’s rare that they all go on a regular patrol like this, and as much as he may dislike Drake and Todd, he won’t deny that they can be useful at times, and that on occasion, they, along with Grayson, can make otherwise boring patrols a _little_ more entertaining with their various antics. But today, their combined presences just mean more people to witness Damian’s embarrassment, and he isn’t pleased by that at all.

However, patrol goes surprisingly well for the first hour or so. The most serious situation Damian comes across is a teenager trying to steal a young woman’s purse, clumsily waving an offensively blunt knife around, who is knocked out before he even sees Damian coming. It’s when they have to address a robbery at a local store that Damian’s night somehow goes even further downhill than it already was.

He’s with Drake, who helps him take down a handful of thugs and return the stolen items before looking for the store owner, who is found cowering behind one of the locked doors. She doesn’t say anything at first, but once she’s been reassured that she is safe and everything is back where it belongs, she seems to perk up a little as her gaze lands on Damian, fixated on his clothes for a moment before moving to Drake.

“Is it just me imagining things,” she starts, looking between both of them with a growing smile on her face, and Damian holds back his growl at her apparent amusement. “Or did your boy there decide to take a trip back to the past with that little get-up he’s got on tonight?”

“I am not _his boy_ –”

“You might as well get used to the sight of this because Robin here lost a bet, and he’s gonna be looking like this for a whole _month_ ,” Drake interrupts his indignant retort, casually throwing an arm over Damian’s shoulders to bring him closer as though it’s just something that he does on a regular basis, as though it’s _normal_ , and Damian doesn’t like it, not one bit.

“I’ll make sure I keep my camera out then,” the store owner replies with a grin, and Damian would like to reiterate that he _hates_ being teased. Damian huffs and shrugs off Drake’s arm as he drones on about the importance of working alarms, only slightly relieved when they finally leave and escape back up to the rooftops, where the only people Damian can potentially humiliate himself in front of are _infinitely_ more embarrassing than he himself is.

They’re left alone for maybe around five minutes after letting the police know where the thugs are before Todd decides to make an arrival, insisting on their presence at the old warehouse he’s been staking out since the beginning of patrol. They get there within ten minutes and Todd takes them around the side of the building to a vent in the wall, high enough off the ground that anyone trying to get into it from the outside would either have to be very tall, or would have to take a running jump at it.

“I need someone to get in there, plant a camera and tracker, and then get out,” Todd tells them, glancing up at the vent. “I’m obviously too big to fit in there, but I’m pretty sure you could squeeze in there if you tried to, Red,” he directs at Drake, then turns to Damian, who can imagine a stupid smirk underneath that helmet of his as he speaks. “Or we could just do things the easy way and send Robin in.”

Damian scowls at him, almost an automatic instinct by now when it comes to dealing with both Todd and Drake and anyone who happens to be just as exhausting as the two of them. “I cannot reach that vent,” Damian grits out, lips pursed as he crosses his arms, and Todd just looks at him, then tilts his head.

“I wonder why,” he says dryly, then crooks his fingers and beckons Damian over to him. Damian narrows his eyes at him, and is sure that Todd can see that through his domino mask because he makes a strange sound which comes out of his helmet sounding like a staticky sigh. “Just come over here, would you? We’ve already wasted enough time on this case,” Todd says, looking at the vent and then back at Damian.

Damian sighs and walks over to stand right in front of him, looking up into the blank white eyes of Todd’s helmet. He tenses up when Todd digs something out of his own jacket pocket and then fiddles with Damian’s utility belt, shoving his hand into one of the pouches before snapping it shut and then turning Damian to face the wall.

Damian will deny until his dying breath that he squeaks when Todd’s hands circle around his waist and suddenly hoist him up high enough that his eyes are level with the top of the vent, feet dangling uselessly in the air as he reaches up and curls his fingers through the gaps in the grille cover. And then there are gloved hands sliding down from his hips to his bare thighs and further still until they have a secure grip around his ankles, and Damian looks down to see that his feet are balanced on Todd’s broad shoulders.

“Open it up,” Todd says, and Damian carefully fishes the appropriate tool out from his utility belt, hesitating and looking back down at the top of Todd’s helmet. Todd must notice, because he looks up at Damian from where he was previously muttering something to Drake. “I’m not gonna drop you. You’re tiny and feather-light, so if I did drop you, it’d be a blow to my _own_ ego,” Todd says, and it almost sounds a little disgruntled, even through his voice modulator, so Damian scowls down at him once more for good measure and gets to work on the cover.

It’s while he’s twisting one of the last few screws out of place that Damian feels a gentle brush, barely there, against the sensitive skin of his right calf and inadvertently jerks his leg out of Todd’s hold, nearly falling off his shoulders. Todd rushes to catch him as Damian grabs at the loose grille cover to keep himself up, one large hand seizing his shin while the other stays tight around his left ankle like a manacle keeping him in place.

“You good?” Drake calls up to him, and Damian nods, concentrating on removing the final two screws instead of the fact that he just embarrassed himself in front of two people who would definitely use that against him. Todd doesn’t say anything or ask him if he’s alright, so Damian wills away the damned heat in his cheeks and ears and pries the grille cover away from the vent, dropping it so that Drake can catch it and lean it against the wall.

“You’re ticklish,” Todd suddenly says as he lifts Damian higher so he can climb into the vent. It doesn’t come across in his voice because of the modulator in his helmet, but Damian can tell that Todd is positively _delighted_ at this discovery. Damian will have to be careful around him and Drake after this.

“The room this vent leads you to _should_ be empty, so it’s just a quick in and out,” he continues. Damian doesn’t say anything in response, just starts to crawl his way through the tight metal maze, making a face as his bare knees scrape along the surface and wishing he was in his own uniform, not for the first time this night.

“Hood put the tracker and camera in one of your pouches,” Drake tells him over the comms, and Damian drops a hand to the one which Todd had stuffed his own hand into before picking him up, then carries on going. The metal underneath him suddenly starts to dip and Damian tenses up, making sure his weight is distributed evenly as he tentatively creeps closer to where he can make out light and voices coming through the gaps of another grille cover, fastened to a vent in the ceiling above a room which is most definitely _not_ empty.

Damian huffs, annoyed as he considers what to do about the nuisances puttering about below him. “What’s happening?” Todd asks, like he’s expecting Damian to have done the job done by now.

“The room is not empty, you fool,” he hisses, freezing again as the metal groans when he leans back in to look through the grille cover. “And this vent is not strong enough to hold my weight. Did you do no _planning_ prior to deciding to break in?” And then the vent collapses, crumpling and gaping open wide enough that Damian doesn’t have enough time to react before he’s falling out of it, twisting in the air to land in a crouch on the ground.

His head snaps up so he can scan the room and count four masked men, shock written all over their faces and – wait. He’d counted _five_ of them while he was still in the vent. Straightening up until he’s standing, Damian steps away from the heap of metal until it’s no longer in his way, and that’s when he notices a limp hand peeking out from under it, someone’s weak groaning echoing in the silence.

_Oh_. He must have been taken out by the fallen vent. One down, four to go, Damian supposes.

He deals with the rest of them fairly easily, feet flying and fists soaring to knock the four goons out, and Damian doesn’t even break a sweat. He does briefly consider trying to hide their unconscious bodies, but ultimately decides to leave cleaning up their mess to someone else, fishing the tracker and camera out of his pouch and attaching them both to the corner of a wall, hidden in plain sight.

Damian stands there, hands on his hips as he takes in the room, wondering why the hell Todd wants to survey this room, but it isn’t his case so he decides to mind his own business, looking up at what _was_ meant to be his exit, and the loud voices coming from his comm become even louder, so he chooses to address them. “What?” He sighs into the comms, and the voices are suddenly silenced before coming back with a vengeance.

“What the fuck was that noise?” Todd demands.

“”Hood, shut up,” Drake snaps. “Are you alright, Robin?” Drake asks, and Damian can actually _hear_ the concern in his voice, and doesn’t know how to feel about it, so ignores it.

“That noise was the vent caving in on itself and then collapsing, because as it turns out, I am not, in fact, _feather-light_ ,” Damian informs them, mocking Todd’s earlier jab at his size. “And then there were five goons in here which Hood did not account for. But both devices are in place.” He rubs absentmindedly at his knee which has started to sting, frowning when he feels something wet and looking down to find a long scratch on it, bleeding sluggishly.

“Oops,” is all Todd has to say about his mistakes, and Damian doesn’t bother trying to get anything more out of him – he has bigger priorities right now, such as how he’s going to leave this building now without alerting anyone else of his presence.

“Hood, you’re useless. Robin –”

“Fuck off, Replacement.” Damian hears them briefly scuffling over the comms, Drake’s snippy retorts intermingled with Todd’s cursing, and rolls his eyes as he wonders how _he_ is the youngest of them.

“— anyway,” Drake drawls after a moment, sounding annoyed and a little breathless. “If you leave the room you’re in, then go left and follow the hallway around, you should find a set of double doors, and then some stairs.” Drake pauses to allow time for Damian to follow his instructions. Damian does so, wondering all the while how stupid the people in charge of this operation must be to leave all of the doors either unlocked or wide open. “Go up all of the stairs and there’ll be a fire exit, which will get you out of the building, but you’ll be on the opposite side to us, so you’ll have to walk back around.”

Damian grumbles and does so, deactivating his comm as he climbs up the stairs and pushes open the door, taking a minute to breathe in the fresh air after being stuck in that unstable vent before marching on. He eventually rounds the corner and spots Drake and Todd lingering by the entrance to the vent, as well as a vaguely black and blue blob which turns into Grayson once Damian gets close enough.

He sighs as soon as he catches sight of Damian and walks over to meet him halfway, lifting a hand to swipe some dust out of Damian’s hair before taking Damian back over to where they were all waiting for him. Grayson suddenly stops moving and takes Damian’s arm to turn him around until he’s fully facing him, eyes lowered. Damian looks down and sees what he’s staring at – the small cut on his knee, no longer bleeding.

Grayson sighs again, even louder this time as he disables the traps on his own utility belt. “I thought you guys were staying with Robin to make sure he _didn’t_ end up grazing his knee,” he throws over his shoulder at Drake and Todd, then sinks to his knees and uses a wet wipe to clean Damian’s wound. Damian stares down at the top of Grayson’s head, slightly disconcerted as he sticks a band-aid with little cartoon faces all over it on Damian’s knee before getting back to his feet.

He… doesn’t usually do that. Obviously, Damian is aware of the fact that Grayson cares about him and dislikes it when Damian gets injured. But he doesn’t normally address such small injuries in the field, especially not in front of other people, _never_ when they have somewhere else to be, which is clearly the case as shown by the fact that Drake and Todd are trying to get them to hurry up.

Damian comes to the sudden realisation that perhaps him wearing this old uniform has somehow made Grayson even _more_ protective of him, and braces himself for more unusual behaviour from Grayson in the name of keeping him safe.

“I came here because we need all hands on deck,” Grayson says, looking at all three of them with a serious expression on his face as his hand falls to Damian’s shoulder. “There are multiple bomb alerts and we need to evacuate civilians too, so we’ll have to split up.”

Finally, something _exciting_. 

This uniform had better not hinder him in any way, because he’s been looking for something which will actually challenge him all night, and Grayson has just presented that to him. Damian just hopes Grayson lightens up soon, because if not, Damian won’t get to see any action for the rest of the night, and though what he’s wearing is embarrassing enough that he’d prefer to be wearing his own uniform, that doesn’t mean he’s going to allow Grayson to keep him from fighting properly for the next _month_.

Grayson’s hand tightens on his shoulder, fingers digging into Damian’s skin. “I’ll stick with Robin, you two stay together.” Damian’s plan of avoiding Grayson enough that he can still fight normally shatters into dozens of tiny pieces as Grayson continues to talk, telling them that Brown will be joining them too and teaming up with Batman.

Damian frowns up at the side of his face, unusually stern, and the grip on his shoulder is actually strong enough that it’s starting to ache. “Nightwing, your hand,” he says, and Grayson lets go of him like he’s been burnt, apologising immediately before turning his back on them and starting to walk away, expecting them to follow.

Damian trusts Grayson with his life, there’s no doubt about that, but he has never blindly agreed to do as he says, so Grayson’s in for a surprise if he thinks for some reason that he’ll start doing so now that he’s wearing his old clothes. He exchanges a look with Drake, who just shrugs as he and Todd go after Grayson. Damian narrows his eyes and follows suit, prepared for a difficult night.


End file.
